


The Passage of Time

by beformista



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, The relationship is established in the future, Time Travel, Unseen University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 01:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beformista/pseuds/beformista
Summary: For a moment, Vetinari felt a sharp pang of disappointment. His conscience was, supposedly, hurled forward through time at an alarming speed, and yet nothing ever changed. The same people came to see him every day. The same words were said. The same things were expected of him day, after week, after month. This was it, this was the best his life was ever going to be.





	The Passage of Time

Something sizzled and cracked. The device with a sizable compartment and a quite respectable amount of wires going in and out of it emmited a thin line of smoke.

"Well. That was anti-climatic," said the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork.

The student, tasked with presenting his Machine of Travelling Through Time, or MOTTT, to the Archchancellor and the Patrician, swallowed. He'd never seen or heard anyone who actually knew of someone being thrown into the scorpion pits, but People Talked. The cat* in the device's compartment meowed, jumped out of it and went calmly about its business**. Ponder Stibbons rushed to the student's rescue:

"It's just a prototype, of course. We're still making adjustments."

"Right," the Patrician looked positively unimpressed, as if someone just presented him something tooth-rootingly sweet and actually expected him to eat it. "I'm afraid, that's all the time I have for you today, gentlemen. Don't let me detain you from pushing the world forward, and all that." He waved his hand, distractedly, and left the room. 

There was a sudden movement in the air, as something that was not quite sure what it was supposed to be yet, latched onto the Patrician and followed him outside. None of the previously mentioned gentlemen that should've been quite worried about this, noticed it, too occupied with trying to catch the cat and berate the student at the same time.

***

A meeting with the Guild's heads drowned on and on. A head of the Alchemists' Guild, mister Thomas Silverfish, was telling a fascinating tale of management measures being implemented to cut back on explosions, that ironically, only made them happen more often. But at least now the people responsible had to write a lengthy report on the reasons. Vetinari made a mental note to make a couple of mandatory suggestions on the matter of management. 

He kept listening with half an ear, his mind on matters so important that he missed the clock on the wall starting to move its hands in a rather peculiar matter - skipping seconds, and then minutes, and Mister Silverfish's speech getting progressively less intelligible. He was lost in thought.

There was something wrong with him. As if something in his body gave out, making it feel alien to his mind and his breath lose its rhythm.

***

They were in the Oblong office, Vimes in front of his desk, wearing an expression of subtle discontent and resolutely refusing to look at the Patrician, as if they weren't going through the same dance for years.

"What can you tell me about those reports on the increase of burglaries?" asked the Patrician. Vimes frowned.

"We made some progress. We caught and interrogated some people who, we think, were part of the gang responsible for the whole thing." 

Vetinari looked down at a rather unflattering report*** from the Thieves Guild he received this morning.

"Yesterday, we caught the gang's leader," Vimes continued. Vetinari blinked and looked at the Commander. That was rather fast. With surprise, he noticed a nasty looking scrath on Samuel's face that somehow escaped his attention before. He made a mental note to find a cautious way to instill in the Commander the notion of looking after his own safety and letting people he led do the dangerous work instead of doing it himself. Not that it ever worked before, of course. Vetinari let his gaze travel along the lines of Vimes' body, looking for other signs of trauma.

"Basically, I think this story is over," Vimes finished the report, and Vetinari looked at his face again. On second glance, the scrath didn't look as ghastly or as dangerous as it seemed to him before. He blinked in confusion and wondered if that thing that was happening to him was now also affecting his vision.

He dismissed the Commander and called for Drummknott.

"I need to see the report for the last quarter from the Bank," he said. Drummknott frowned at him in confusion.

"Sir, I brought you that report three days ago, on your request."

"Right. Of course," Vetinari looked down. "Dismissed, then." He drummed at the table with the tips of his fingers in thought. 

***

Later that evening Vetinari looked at himself in the mirror, not for the purposes of vanity, but for the sake of careful observation.

Nothing seemed to have been happening at first, after all, Vetinari wasn't in that age that led to drastic changes in appearances, but the subtle signs were there: in the line and length of his hair, in exhaustion that was present in some moments and absent in others. If he cared to look, the passage of time was there, and it was passing in quite a hurry. However wild the idea might've sounded to him a couple of days ago, it seemed undeniable now: he was travelling through time.

***

Vimes was sitting across from him in a blue shirt that was doing wonderful things to his eyes. The pieces on the Thud board in front of them were barely moved. Vetinari touched a figurine of a dwarf with the tips of his fingers, distractedly swaying it back and forth. He considered his choices. Vimes frowned and gave the piece such an instant stare, as if he was hoping to destroy it by his force of will alone. Vetinari allowed himself a thin smile and moved it. 

The next time he looked at Vimes, the shirt was a different colour. There were fewer pieces on the board. Vetinari sighed in defeat and looked outside through a window. A warm, summer evening was dawning on Ankh-Morpork. The city was buzzing with life, as it always does. He blinked, and the sky turned black.

For a moment, Vetinari felt a sharp pang of disappointment. His conscience was, supposedly, hurled forward through time at an alarming speed, and yet nothing ever changed. The same people came to see him every day. The same words were said. The same things were expected of him day, after week, after month. This was it, this was the best his life was ever going to be.

Then he blinked again, and outside it was autumn. Vetinari frowned and lowered his gaze. His hands shook and blurred before his eyes, as if he suddenly needed glasses and forgot to put them on. Vimes' hands covered his.

"There's something wrong with you, isn't there, love?" Vetinari looked in Vimes' worried eyes and wondered, when it happened and what steps he must take to get here again. 

***

The halls of the Unseen University were almost deserted at this time of day.

"Ah, Lord Vetinari, sir," Ponder Stibbons caught up to the Patrician. "You're here for that thing you asked me to research? I think I have a solution for you."

They proceeded to Mister Stibbon's office. The man sat behind his desk, fighting off a weird urge to offer that place to the Patrician, and took out a small vial of clear unremarkable liquid.

"This will work?" asked the Patrician.

"Well, it is untested, for obvious reasons."

"I see."

They fell silent for a moment. Ponder Stibbons bit his lip and clasped his hands in front of him in a nervous gesture.

"You're going to test it yourself, sir?"

Vetinari raised his eyebrows and gave an uncertain shrug.

"It might have side-effects."

"Of what kind?"

"Well," Ponder Stibbons stuttered, looking for words. "Of mental kind, sir. We are trying to anchor a mind in time."

Vetinari took the vial and gave the liquid a considering gaze. He considered his choices. He opened the vial and swallowed the liquid in one go.

* No cats were harmed in the making of the device. Otherwise, the student and all professional body of the University could find themselves in quite a bit of trouble with certain antropomorphic entities. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardise the sanctity of his duties, of course, but, you know. He could be quite rude.

** It's a lesser known fact, but some cats do actually volunteer as subjects for the Unseen University's experiments. There's always a risk of things going pear-shaped, but then again, Maurice was quite a legend.

*** One might even go as far as call it a tip-off or a denunciation, but Vetinari was in a rather gracious mood.


End file.
